


The Claiming

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Ellison returns to the family estate for his brother's engagement party, and finds out his 'stepbrother', Blair, has a secret crush on the groom- to-be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Claiming

## The Claiming

by Mona Ramsey

{This is the second in my completely-unplanned series of "Movie Memories" stories. It's loosely based on one of my most favourite movies _ever_ \- possibly my _most_ favourite movie - "Sabrina". No, not the Harrison Ford one; this time it's the original, 1954, Audrey Hepburn/William Holden/Humphrey Bogart version. 

Skewed with names and ages, as is my wont; picture Jim and Blair just a little bit younger than they appear on the show.} 

* * *

"The Claiming"  
by MonaR.  
monaram@yahoo.com 

My brother is a screw-up. Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying that I don't love him, or that I'm ashamed to admit that he's my brother - most of the time. But even understanding that he is my brother and is charming and has this innate ability to make people fall in love with him, I can still say, quite plainly and honestly, he's a screw-up. 

He'll be thirty-one on his next birthday, and in the relatively short span of thirty years he's managed to fit in several short-lived stints in college, three marriages, and innumerable relationships, several of which might as well have billed by the hour, considering the relative length and cost that they incurred David to extricate himself from. 

Perhaps I should start at the beginning: my name is James Ellison. Not to toot my own horn, but ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you one thing: I am _not_ a screw-up. I am the screw-up's older brother. 

I suppose I should take some of the blame; after our mother left, when I was a teenager, I didn't spend the time that I should have with my younger brother. My father, never a hands-on type of paternal figure to begin with, disappeared almost as neatly as my mother. We still _saw_ him, but he was just never there. I was old enough to pick up the bits of my shattered world and go on; I finished high school, played football, went to college and got half of a business degree. Then I almost gave my father a heart attack by chucking it all in for a stint in the Army when we entered the war; it was a good decision for me and I don't regret it - it taught me a lot about myself and exactly where I belonged. When I was mustered out I joined the police force - narrowly avoiding a _second_ heart attack by my father - and am now a detective. It suits me and my personality, and I'm good at it - I don't make near the money that we had when I was growing up, but I don't need money. It never seemed to make the old man happy, but then not much really does that. I have no regrets about 'turning my back', as my father _so_ likes to remind me I've done, on my obligations to the family business. I always figured that I'd let him run it; after he was gone, then David could run it into the ground. 

Ah, David. That's who we were talking about, before; David's my brother. He's just never seemed to be able to find himself anywhere; between a father who didn't talk to him except to request the salt at Sunday dinner and a brother who left the country when he was hitting puberty, it's no wonder, really. Still, he's tried. 

And tried, and tried, and tried. And _been_ pretty damn trying, to boot. I've come to expect the call from my father, almost once a week, that starts out: 

* * *

"That boy is _not_ my son." 

"Dad - " 

"Neither one of you are! I _knew_ I should have run blood tests on the lot of you. Some travelling salesman like the bastard your mother ran off with - " 

"Dad, I'm not having this conversation for the hundredth time." Pause. "What has he done now?" 

"He's getting married." 

"Again?" 

* * *

Again. We've had this exact conversation twice before verbatim; the first time David got married, I left off the 'again' part. 

I don't even remember all of their names. I liked the first one, I think; she was a society girl about his age he'd grown up with. It lasted a year. The second was an actress in television commercials; the third a rather obscure countess he met one summer in Paris. The last two lasted considerably _less_ than a year - even put together. 

This new bride turned out to be another actress, a little Broadway chanteuse I'd actually heard of. Apparently they'd met on some committee or other for the restoration of one of the old theatres, and it had clicked. I hoped for both of their sakes that it would last. 

My father was less than enthusiastic. His own experience had soured him on the institution of marriage. 

* * *

"Why does he have to _marry_ them?" 

"Dad - " 

"Really? Tell me what changes when you stand in front of a minister and say those vows?" 

"Dad - " 

"I'll _tell_ you what changes! The divorce settlement! That idiot boy should just find a nice little apartment in the city and live with the girl until they get bored of each other! But no - it isn't _his_ money that will end up in her bank account!" 

* * *

Surprised at my father's attitude? Well, most other people who don't know him would be, as well. Nice unmarried couples do _not_ live together in 1954, especially not in a small town like Cascade. 

But my father and Naomi do. Who's Naomi? Well - she _was_ the housekeeper, for a few years after my mother ran off with the brush salesman; now, she's referred to politely as my father's 'friend'. They've been together for more than ten years; I honestly don't think that a little piece of paper saying that they were married in front of God and country would do anything to change their relationship for the better. It works for them, and my father has enough money and influence so that it doesn't matter anymore in the better circles in which he travels. 

I've always felt a little sorry for Naomi; she's a nice woman who came to our house for a good job and ended up in love. I know she loves my father because no-one who didn't could possibly stay with him as long as she has without killing him in his sleep. He'll never marry her and she knows it. Like I said before - it works for them. 

She was married once before and had a son; her husband, who was English, was killed in the early days of the war and she took the housekeeper's job at our place because it would allow her to live in one place with her son and provide for him. She's a nice lady. I don't know her as well as I probably should, I guess, but our relationship is \- difficult. We try to keep it as simple as possible, and that sometimes means keeping it as _shallow_ as possible. 

Still, seeing her with her son - Blair is his name \- makes me wish just a little bit that she had come into my life a little sooner than she did; if _I_ had had a mother like that, and if David had - 

Well, things would be different, I can tell you that. 

* * *

"You've got to come to the house this weekend, Jimmy." 

"Dad - " 

"The 'engagement party' - " my father may be the only person in the world who can put the sort of spin on the phrase 'engagement party' that a doctor puts on 'malignant melanoma' - " - is Saturday night. You're coming, Jimmy, if you want your idiot brother to make it to Sunday." 

"Dad - " 

_clang_ _click_

* * *

Apparently, I was going to a party that weekend. 

* * *

I considered, for about six seconds, bringing a date. But I realized that that would only result in Dad having to split his attentions between both of his 'idiot sons', and I wanted the entire focus to be on David. After all, it was his night. 

Besides, the first and only time I brought a date to the house in my life was the night of my senior prom. That was such a pip in and of itself that I almost strangled the old man with my bare hands. Never did make it to the prom - I spent the rest of the night in the car, apologizing to my date. 

If I was a little less sympathetic to the old bastard I'd just cut him off and never see him again. But - he's my father. Part of me understands him, part of me needs to see him, even if just to ensure that I never _ever_ turn out like him. 

So, I dusted off my tux, grateful that the styles hadn't changed _too_ much since the last time I'd worn it. It wasn't too often that I was summoned to the mansion, but I'd had enough of David's weddings to go to that I realized owning one made better sense than renting. 

Putting on that monkey suit, I again asked myself why I hadn't been killed in the war. Or maybe just a nice convenient bout of amnesia. . . 

* * *

You can always tell when one of the old houses by the water is having a party - you can see the lights and hear the music all around. I left my clunker of a car in the garage and walked through the kitchen into the main part of the house, making my way to the terrace where I knew the majority of the partygoers would be. I'd have to spend _some_ time with my father, if only to prove that I'd actually come. Plus, I knew he was waiting for me to give my opinion on David's latest. 

The place was swarming - packed with matronly women trying to marry off their daughters, and with daughters trying to marry to get away from their mothers. Once they'd figured out that my 'I don't want to live off my father's money' song was _real_ , they'd pretty much left me alone. Snagging James Ellison would be a feather in no-one's cap, not in this crowd. 

I spotted Naomi by the french doors leading out to the terrace, and kissed her on the cheek. "Hey, gorgeous." 

"James. I'm so glad you came." 

I raised an eyebrow. "Ignore a summons from Dad? I don't have any life insurance, Naomi - I _had_ to come. What's your excuse?" 

She grinned. "I've got to keep him out of trouble. The last time we had a party, I had to rescue him from the hands of a 'friend' who was trying to playfully push him into the deep end of the pool." 

"Too bad. So where is he? And where's the new Mrs. David Ellison?" 

"The happy couple is over there," she pointed to a dark corner of the otherwise well-lit terrace. "As for your father - oh, wait, I think I see him." 

"Go clamp down. I'll find my way around." 

"Try to have a good time?" 

"I'm just the prodigal, Naomi, I don't know if I can perform miracles." 

She went off after my father and I snagged a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, downed it, and then took another. Then, I set off to offer my congratulations to the happy couple. 

* * *

To say that Emily was not what I was expecting would be an understatement. I was right, I had seen her picture before, in the papers, but she wasn't _just_ the 'actress' that I thought she was. She also came from one of Cascade's better families, but she was no high-school debutante. She was nearly David's age and had been on her own for several years, working and making her own way, much to the disapproval of her parents. She struck me as someone both intelligent and possessed of a healthy streak of common sense. I was overwhelmed. 

I wondered just what exactly she saw in David that the rest of us had missed. 

I admired her firm, no-nonsense handshake and kissed her cheek. "You're lovely. Where have you been all my life?" 

She laughed. "I don't know, James - " 

"Please, call me Jim. Only the old man calls me James." 

"Jim." She cocked her head at me. "Where have _you_ been all _my_ life?" 

I groaned. "The wrong places, obviously." 

"Hey," David joked, "no hitting on my fiancee - at least, not in front of me." 

"We'll have to continue this later," Emily said, winking. 

"Name the place, and I'll be there," I agreed. 

David and I talked when she went to powder her nose. 

"I can't believe it," I said, giving his shoulder a punch. "You've actually found the perfect woman, Davy." 

"You don't have to tell me," he said, smiling. "She's - she's perfect, Jim. This time, I know that it's _it_. I'm forever in love, this time." 

"You'd better be," I warned. "If you do anything to screw this one us, I'm going to have to personally kick your butt." 

He laughed. "You know, her father said almost exactly the same thing to me not half an hour ago?" 

"Smart man. I'll have to get in line, then." 

"Believe me, if I'm ever stupid enough to do anything like that, I'll deserve the line." 

* * *

I danced enough to make it look good and nibbled on tiny food that didn't nearly fill me up. I'd just decided that I'd sneak into the kitchen for one of our cook Margaret's _real_ meals and was headed across the grass to the garage when I spotted something - some little movement - out of the corner of my eye. 

It was in the tree-lined walk that ran down the side of the house, near the indoor tennis court. 

"Hello? Is somebody there?" 

I heard a rustle, but it was pretty dark and I couldn't see if it was a what or a who. 

"I don't bite, I promise." Nothing. "Are you lost? The engagement party is on the terrace. I can lead you back if you - " 

"I know where it is." 

That voice seemed to come out of nowhere, and it startled me. Finally, I spied him leaning against one of the old trees that I remember climbing when I was a kid. It was Blair, dressed casually in jeans and a shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, wearing the same wire-rimmed glasses that I remember seeing on him as a kid. Somehow, I hadn't expected to see him here - from what I remembered of him, he was very close to his mother, very bookish, and quite shy, really. He used to run and hide at the first sight of strangers. Of course, I'd never spent any _real_ time with him. 

"Blair! You startled me." 

"Sorry." He looked past me, to where the lights from the party were shining. 

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" 

"Just watching." 

I looked back. "You've got a good view, from here." 

"Best on the estate." 

He wasn't exactly talkative, but I realized that we'd just shared our longest exchange of words _ever_. Like I said, I didn't know him. 

There was a stone bench off the path, near the tree, and I sat down. "Mind if I join you?" 

"It's not nearly as exciting as being in there." 

"That's what I was hoping you'd say." 

* * *

We sat there for a while, listening to the music drift over from the band on the terrace, talking every once in a while. Mostly we just sat in silence, and it was nice. It's a good sign when you can just sit quietly with a person without feeling as though you _have_ to be talking every minute. It's a rare comfort that is hard to find. 

We'd been talking about nothing, Blair paying more attention to the party that we weren't at than to our conversation, when he suddenly blurted out, "He doesn't love her, you know." 

It didn't take a genius to guess who he was talking about. I bit. "How do you know?" 

He pushed his glasses up. It was a nervous habit, I'd come to realize. He did it a lot. "Look at them together. They're a million miles apart out there." 

David and Emily were dancing together. They weren't exactly all over each other, but they were close enough. I shrugged. "Looks all right to me." 

"Well, looks can be deceiving." 

"You sound pretty sure of yourself." 

He looked away - away from them and away from me - and shrugged. "I just go by what I see." 

"And you see a lot, from here?" I nodded at the tree. 

He smiled at me. "I go to all of the parties on the estate." 

"You could, you know," I said. "I'm sure that Naomi doesn't want you out here, skulking around in the shadows like this." 

He raised an eyebrow at me, amused. "Naomi doesn't want me to upset your father, and you know it. For that fact, nobody wants your father upset. And seeing me pretty much ensures that he'll be upset." 

"Why?" 

He shrugged. "Why does anything upset him?" 

"Good point." I remembered the looks of terror that the kid had shown at family dinners. You had to grow up an Ellison to know how to take the old man. I sighed, and took a look back at the party. "I should go back, but I don't really want to. I don't think anyone is missing me." 

"Then don't." Blair shivered a little. It was getting darker, and it was cool out here, away from everyone. 

I stood up, took off my jacket and offered it to him. "Here." 

"Don't you - " 

"No." 

He smiled, and put it on, swimming in it. He had to roll the cuffs up just so his hands would poke through. He was small, but his body was well-proportioned. I vaguely wondered if he took after his father. I couldn't remember ever seeing any pictures of the man. 

"Look," I said, "I know something else that could warm us up out here. Why don't I get us something to drink? Nobody will miss one bottle of champagne." 

"You don't have to baby-sit me, you know." 

"Are you kidding? This is the best time that I've _ever_ had at one of these things, and I've been to plenty. Don't go anywhere - I'll be right back." 

* * *

It was easy to grab one of the many bottles of champagne on ice at the bar and a couple of glasses that I tucked into my pants pockets. I took a quick look around for David and Emily or my father and Naomi but didn't see anyone I knew, so I was able to slip back away. 

It wasn't just an idle compliment that I'd given Blair - that night _was_ the best time I'd had at a party on the estate since the Christmas party when I was about twelve and had stolen a couple of the huge silver platters out of the kitchen and Davy and I had gone sledding on them. I thought my father was going to raise the roof when he found out, but that was when my mother was still there to shield us. We were grounded, but we got grounded a lot. 

I almost whistled on the way back to where I hoped that Blair was still waiting. It's strange, isn't it, how you can meet someone and feel as though you've known them all of your life? It's even stranger when you meet someone you've known all of your life and it just suddenly hits you that you're really _meeting_ them - talking to them, getting to know them - for the very first time. 

I heard it before I should have - I was a good dozen yards away from that tree when I heard Blair's voice. I thought that he was talking to me, but I soon realized that he wasn't alone. 

David was there, too. 

I assumed that he'd been doing what I was - making his way to the kitchen, or the garage, or even the tennis court - and had run into Blair. He was probably making small talk with him. 

He proved my assumption right, or so I thought. "You should come to the party." 

"I like it out here," Blair answered. "It's quiet." 

"Private." 

"Yes." 

I could practically hear the smile in his voice when he said that. Something was not connecting in my brain, but it was really bothering me. 

"You're a very private person, aren't you, Blair?" 

"Oh, I don't know. It depends on my company at the time." 

"And what sort of company do you like?" 

"Can't you guess?" 

I had been moving forward all this time, but it finally penetrated my rather thick skull just what was happening, and I stopped five feet shy of where they were and ducked behind a tree. Like I said, I'm not all that smart, sometimes, 'cause it had taken me practically standing on top of them to realize that Blair was flirting with my brother. 

And David - freshly engaged, 'forever-in-love' David - was flirting back. His voice had taken on that silky quality that it gets when he's trying to get something that he wants very badly. 

I didn't know right away which one of them was making me more angry. 

Son of a bitch. 

* * *

I was flabbergasted on so many levels that I thought my respiratory system was going to shut down. On the first part, I hadn't known that David was - bisexual, I guess. Bisexual? David? I believe there were innate laws of nature being broken there. Of course, I always just _assumed_ that all of his innumerable affairs were being conducted with women. All of the ones that were reported on in the many gossip columns and whispered about in the rich households were with a never-ending succession of beautiful women, but that didn't prove anything. David may be a lot of things, but stupid isn't one of them. He never would have appeared in public or brought a _man_ to the house - unless he was trying to kill Dad, of course. 

Probably wouldn't have worked, anyway. Dad would have been happy that they couldn't marry, and left it at that. 

Then there was the fact that _Blair_ \- little, skinny, hide-around-corners, never-notice-him Blair - was in love with David. I could hear it in his voice. And not only that, but he was doing his level best to make sure that David knew it, too. 

It was instantly obvious to me that something was going to have to be done about this. Emily just might be the last chance that David had to settle down to a real life, with some real responsibilities and an actual adult relationship. If he fucked it up just for a casual roll in the sheets with _Blair_ \- Blair who was in love with him and had a heart just ripe for breaking - 

Well, it wasn't going to happen. I would make sure of it. 

* * *

I gripped the champagne bottle tightly and took the glasses out of my pockets, straightened my shoulders, put on my biggest smile, and walked into the middle of the fray, making sure that I was making enough noise so that they could hear me coming. 

"I found it, Blair - " I stopped. "Oh, David - here you are. Your guests were beginning to think you'd ditched your own engagement party." 

He looked at me. I saw a suspicious colour in his cheeks, and the sparkle in his eyes that he gets when he's been caught doing something particularly dumb. "I just stopped to talk to Blair - you remember Blair, don't you? Naomi's son?" 

I nodded, still smiling. "Yeah. Actually, I've spent most of a very pleasant evening right here _with_ Blair. That's my jacket." 

"Oh." David looked back at Blair. 

I stood there, looking from one to the other, but mostly at Blair. I was apparently successful at what I was _trying_ to convey to David, because it didn't take him long to excuse himself. 

"I should get back." He paused. "You coming, Jim?" 

"I like it out here," I said. I emboldened myself enough to put my arm around Blair's shoulder. I'm sure, from David's point of view, it looked rather proprietary. It was meant to. 

He shrugged. "Okay. I'll see you later." 

* * *

It took Blair a couple of minutes to recover from his shock - long enough for me to pop the cork on the champagne - and then he let me have it. 

"What the hell was that?" 

"What was what?" Playing dumb has never been my particularly strong suit, but I believed I was giving an Academy-Award-winning performance. I handed him a glass. 

"What you just did, that's what." He pointed to me, to the retreating form of my brother, and to himself, no words coming out of his mouth. "You don't even know what you just did, do you?" 

"Seems to me I kept two people I care about from making a big mistake." I raised my glass. 

"But - " 

"But you're in love with him?" 

He nodded. 

"And he's in love with Emily - " 

That seemed to make him even madder. "He's - " 

"Shush." I put my hand over his mouth, and turned him towards the terrace again. Through the trees, there was a pretty good view of the party - the band was still playing, and happy couples were still dancing. Included among them were David and Emily. He was holding her just a little tighter than he had been before. "Look." 

He squirmed away from me. "But that's just because - " 

"Because he cares about her. Does he love her? I don't know - I think so. And what's more important than that is that she's good for him, and she's what he needs." 

"Better that he marry a woman that he doesn't love than have his reputation ruined by the likes of me?" His words were bitter, and he downed the champagne. He really looked like nothing so much as a disappointed puppy. 

I put my glass down beside the champagne bottle, and snagged his away, too. Then I tipped up his chin with my thumb. "What makes you think it's my brother that I'm worried about?" Before he had a chance to put the question in his eyes into words, I kissed him - a nice, slow kiss, parting his lips with my tongue and tasting him. 

He couldn't have looked more astonished if I'd suddenly turned blue and sprouted wings. I had to hold myself back from laughing at the shocked look on his face. What had started out as an evening completely without promise was quickly turning itself around. 

"Why did you do that?" 

I shrugged. "Because I wanted to." 

"Just like that." 

"Pretty much." 

"But I didn't - I mean, you aren't - I mean - " 

"How do you know what I am? We don't even know each other, really. Before tonight I had no idea that you were in love with my brother. Before tonight, I probably wouldn't even have _cared_. But think about it - you have a relationship with somebody with David's history and you get what? A few month's happiness, and then a swift good-bye. It's the same with all of his relationships." 

He still wasn't convinced. "So you want him to do that to Emily instead of me? That's pretty heartless." 

I shook my head, folding my arms in front of me. "Emily's no starry-eyed virgin. She knows the score. If anyone has a chance of domesticating my little brother, it's her. I think she just might do it." I leaned closer. "And no matter what you want to believe, I think she does love him." 

"But so do - " 

I kissed him again. It was turning into my strongest argument, and I was surprising myself with exactly how much I was enjoying it. He fit well into my arms - better than anyone had in a long time. I'd missed feeling like this. 

When I let him go, he was flushed and beautiful, his eyes snapping at me. "I wish you'd stop doing that!" 

"Why?" 

"Because - because - " his anger was beginning to dissipate. 

"Because you're beginning to enjoy it?" 

He nodded at me, defeated, and sat down on the stone bench. "I don't understand this. I've been in love with David all my life, practically - and you," he waved his hand in my direction, " - you come along and kiss me and all of a sudden I don't know _what_ I think." 

I sat down beside him. "Do you want to know what _I_ think?" 

He shrugged. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me no matter what I say." 

I laughed. "True." I sobered again, and made him look at me. "I think - I think that just maybe you're in love with the _idea_ of love, rather than the reality. If you think about it, you don't know David any better than you know me - I mean, it isn't as though you're really close friends, is it? You didn't strike up a friendship with him when I wasn't looking?" 

Reluctantly, he shook his head. 

"That's what I thought. You just happen to live on the same estate - and even then you're in two completely different worlds. And come to think of it, maybe you _do_ know me better." This time, when I took him in my arms, I didn't let him go for a very, very long time. He'd stopped making any pretense of getting away, I was happy to realize. 

His kisses were sweet - breathtakingly sweet, and delicious, and he was beginning to go to my head the way too many glasses of champagne did. It didn't strike me until then that perhaps _I_ was treading on the dangerous ground I'd been determined to pull David away from. 

I moved my lips away from his and trailed them across to his ear, making him shiver as I swirled my tongue and nibbled against the softness of his skin. 

He was still trying to speak. "If I was a girl - " 

"You aren't." I sucked at his neck. 

He continued as if I hadn't said a thing. " - that you thought was wrong for David - " 

"I said before, what makes you think I'm worried about David?" 

He persisted. " - would you - " 

I kissed him again. "Blair?" 

He seemed finally to have lost the ability to speak coherently. "Mmm?" 

"Shut up." 

* * *

About twenty minutes later in the house, I sneaked up behind my father for old time's sake. Couldn't shock the old bird into having a heart attack, but I tried. "Looks like they're good together." 

He jumped, but only a little. "Hmmph," he said, but I knew he was watching David and Emily on the terrace, still dancing. "Where've you been?" 

"Oh, just hiding in a tree." I grinned at him. 

He looked at me and gave one of those 'why do I even bother to ask' head shakes that he's made famous. I just laughed. It was my answer to everything that night. Nobody, and nothing, could possibly shake me anymore. That right belonged to only one person - and he was waiting for me in the garage, in my old clunker of a car. I couldn't persuade him to come in here with me to say my good-byes, but that was okay. 

That night, for the first time, I brought him to his _real_ home - mine. 

* * *

I read in the papers that the engagement party lasted until early Sunday morning; I wasn't there to see it end, though - and neither was Blair. 

Turns out I was right, you know - David and Emily _were_ good for each other. At last, my screw-up little brother managed to _not_ screw something up. With Emily's help, he made a good marriage. They're even expecting an addition to the family - something that, no matter how he tries to hide it, made the old man very happy. I think it may even have mellowed him a little. 

And me? Well, I, the perennial bachelor, ended up that memorable weekend with this new 'roommate' - one that I've had for three years, now. He's staying with me while he finishes school, you see \- he's currently on his way to a Master's. And maybe then he'll go for the Ph.D. He's good at what he does - anthropology. I don't know a damn thing about it, but he's even teaching _me_ a little, on the side. 

I even taught him a little - he wasn't _quite_ a virgin the first time we kissed, but he was damned close. I taught him about making love to a man, and about what _real_ love feels like. I think, if the anthropology thing for some reason doesn't work out for him, he could teach a graduate course in kissing. 

The old man knows all about us; the entire family does, now. It wasn't something that I was willing to hide, although it would have been a lot easier that way. There were a lot of tears and some idle curses, but eventually they all realized that Blair and I were in love with - and committed to - each other. I even got David's rather shamefaced blessing about it. 

And I was right about my father, too - finding out that he had a homosexual son didn't kill him, and now he doesn't even have to worry about me marrying someone who just wants my money. Little does he know that if I ever could, I wouldn't hesitate even one moment to pledge myself before God and country to one Blair Sandburg. 

The End  
MonaR.  
monaram@iname.com/monaram@mailcity.com 


End file.
